20. Callie
twenty
Callie
“I will help you get cleaned up.”
There is no double meaning behind his words, and yet they sound salacious. Eli is going to help bathe and dress me. A man I have had a crush on since the day I met him is about to see me naked.
A bolt of liquid lust shoots through me, making my core ache with need, and my heart races, pounding wildly against my ribs.
This is not how I envisioned Eli seeing me without clothes for the first time. In my fantasies, he’s desperate to have me and rips my clothes away before taking me with a rough, all-consuming passion I’ve only read about in books.
This is nothing like that. Eli isn’t a man starved for my body. We aren’t … anything to each other. I’m his injured client, incapable of washing my own damn hair.
But this situation I’m in with him is the furthest thing from sexy.
“Stay right here, and I’ll be right back,” Eli says, bringing me out of my mental freakout.
Frozen on the couch, I watch as Eli rushes out the door and returns, carrying a duffle bag, my purse, and a guitar case. Unshed tears well in my eyes, making my nose prickle. The thought he put into gathering the things I would need to be comfortable is staggering. He thought of everything.
Warmth fills my chest. No one has taken care of me in so long I’ve forgotten how it feels to have someone by my side looking out for me.
Eli moves past me with my bags and down the hall, where I assume the guest room is. He returns and slips off his sweatshirt before heading toward the dining room. He removes the cute burgundy cushion from the wooden chair and tosses it on the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask, too curious to keep quiet.
“You’ll see.” He blasts me with his smoldering smile, and carries the chair through the house and out of sight.
Nervously, I rub my sweaty palms down my pants and look around the living room as I wait for him to return.
When Eli said we were staying at his brother’s place, I pictured your typical bachelor pad. Black and white color scheme, leather couches, and a flat screen the size of the wall. This place is nothing like that. It’s cuter.
If I were a regular person, this is the home I would want to live in. It’s warm and inviting, a place for relaxing with family and friends. I love how the furniture doesn’t match but somehow still works together. The variety of colors decorating the space makes this house feel like home.
I look to my left and find a wall filled with family photos. I can barely make them out, but I spot Eli immediately. He’s dressed in his Hollywood agent uniform, holding the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen. The boy, who I assume is his nephew Rhys, looks like a younger version of Eli, except for the eyes. Even from here, I can see the boy’s are caramel brown and have wickedly gleaming rings of gold flecks in them.
“Callie?”
Eli’s close proximity surprises me as I jerk my head to the side to look at him. The rapid movement has me wincing at the tweaking pain in my neck.
“Shit, are you okay?” He squats down in front of me and places his hands on my thighs, rubbing them up and down in a soothing manner. Only, it doesn’t have a soothing effect.
A searing heat soars through my body and settles between my legs. My panties flood with arousal, and my breath hitches at his nearness. My mouth goes drier than the desert as I stare into his eyes.
I’ve never been this close to him before. I’m so close I can see the individual strands of gold in his eyes, the ocean green-blue of his irises that are slightly different shades from each other, and the honey-brown spot in his left eye.
His eyes are mesmerizing. Unlike any I have ever seen before. They are truly unique and have the ability to take my breath away. So much so, I wrote a song about them once.
Sectoral heterochromia. That’s what the doctors call it. I looked it up after our first meeting, curious about the brown spot. If his eyes were a pie, it would look like someone took a slice of color right out of it and left behind nothing but the golden-brown crust.
“I’m fine. Great, actually,” I admit. I might be a little beaten up, but being this close to Eli makes the pain from yesterday’s accident feel non-existent.
“Callie?” Eli soothingly runs his hands up my thighs again and my brain malfunctions.
He has touched me more times in the past twelve hours than he has in the last two years I’ve known him. It’s a sensory overload. Somehow, he’s pushing all the discomfort I feel away and replacing it with so much more. Safety. Desire. Hope.
Every brush of hair off my face lights my nerves on fire. His powerful arms around me as he carries me around send a comforting heat flowing through me. The way he places barely there kisses on the crown of my head, like I’m precious, makes my heart flutter.
“Are you ready to get cleaned up?”
Not before you make me dirty, my inner voice purrs, and I yell at the very horny inner hoe to shut the hell up and take a deep breath.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Another admission that flies over his head undetected.
“Good.” Eli scoops me up in one fell swoop.
Without a fight, I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him, enjoying the tenderness he’s extended to me since we landed. Eli carries me down the hall to a bedroom with soft gray painted walls, and a wood dresser that looks expensive and handmade, as do the matching bedside tables that adorn a huge king-sized bed in the middle of the room. The bed looks like heaven covered in a white, fluffy duvet and matching pillows that look as soft as marshmallows.
Bypassing the room, Eli carries me into the ensuite bathroom, where he places me on my feet along the sink for balance. He walks over to the shower and opens the door, revealing the wood chair he took from the dining room.
With the water warming, Eli slowly approaches me and places his hands on his hips, looking a little lost.
“So, um, how do you want to do this?” he asks, fumbling over his words.
I take pleasure in his awkwardness over the situation we’re in. It’s not like he’s alone. I’m a nervous wreck. Things between us are changing so quickly, but I haven’t been able to get a handle on what that means.
Reaching for whatever confidence I can, I raise a brow and look him in the eye. “I don’t know. You were the one with the big idea.”
This was his idea, and I’m dying to see where it goes. This moment has the possibility of moving our relationship out of the professional sphere into something new. Something I’ve been secretly dreaming about for as long as I’ve known him.
“I guess we, uh, start with…” He circles his hand around the general area of my body, and for a second, he looks much younger than his thirty-five years. “Taking off your clothes?”
“Seems like the next logical step,” I croak out. Between the steam from the shower and the charged energy between me and Eli, my body temperature is blazing.
“First.” Eli takes a deep breath, and puffs his chest with air before exhaling. With conviction, he reaches for the foam brace around my neck. He gently peels back the Velcro strap, removing the contraption. Shivers run down my spine and I close my eyes at the contact as his broad chest grazes my shoulder. He places the brace on the sink behind me and steps back.
“How does that feel?” he asks.
I open my eyes and turn my head side to side, testing the muscles. “Tender but manageable.”
His shoulders sag with relief. “That’s good. Do you want ibuprofen before or after the shower?”
“After,” I say, not bothering to think about it. I might pay for it later, but right now, anticipation has me high enough that my body can’t sense any pain.
Eli nods, giving my body a head-to-toe onceover. “I think we should start from the bottom up.”
Eyes on his, I nod, letting him take the lead.
He falls to his knees, and takes off my sneakers and socks, then places them aside. His fingers twirl around the drawstrings of my sweatpants as he looks up at me. “Can I keep going?”
“Yes.” I bite back a moan as he unties the drawstring and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my sweatpants. He pushes them down my thighs.
Eli breathes heavily, but, ever the gentleman, he keeps his eyes on mine. Sparks prickle my skin as his warm fingers ever-so-softly trail a line up my calves and thighs before gripping the top of my panties.
He arches a brow, waiting for my consent, and I think I fall a little harder for him.
Elijiah Miller is a true gentleman. He’s not trying to sneak a peek or take advantage of me, even though I would let him.
I bite my lip, obstructing the moan daring to leave my mouth as he hooks his index fingers over the top of my panties. He slides them down my legs, letting them pool around my ankles, where my sweatpants lie at my feet.
The gold fleck in his eyes glows brighter. I can feel the heat from his face, so close to my pussy, that images of him sticking his tongue out and swiping it across my clit send liquid lust rushing to my core. I’m soaked and my pussy pulses, heavy with desire.
Eli takes a deep breath, and his nostrils flare. My hips have a mind of their own and nudge forward in a plea for him to come closer, to taste me.
The man on his knees smirks at me before he rises to his feet and grips the hem of my shirt. He waits for me to once again nod my consent.
“Arms up,” he commands. I obediently do as he asks and am rewarded with a thick and gritty: “Such a good princess.”
I can’t stop the needy whimper in the back of my throat as he turns the moniker into an indecent compliment. Eli, ever the gentleman, ignores the noise and lifts my shirt over my head, slowly sliding it over my body before he tosses it to the side.
One more piece of clothing.
“Bra next,” I tell him before he can ask to remove it.
Eli is about to see me naked .
His fingers brush my ribs as he grips the clasp behind my back and unsnaps it, letting it fall to the floor.
For me, this entire experience has become one giant game of foreplay, turning me into a messy, needy horn-ball. My pussy is wet and begging for him to fill it up. My nipples are so hard they could cut glass.
But why isn’t he looking at me? Not a peek, a quick glance… Nothing. The energy between us is thick and electric. Aside from his labored breathing, Eli seems unaffected as I stand stark naked before him. I stand frozen, waiting for him to make a move.
Does he not find me attractive?
His eyes never waver from mine as he clasps my hand in his and carefully walks me across the tile floor to the standing shower.
Maybe he really isn’t interested in me.
I break eye contact, resisting the urge to cover my body and let my insecurities win, but disappointment and shame are a nasty bitch. I barely hear Eli as he explains where the soaps are and to call if I need something.
As Eli opens the shower door, my heart twists at the sight of the wood chair he carried out of the dining room earlier. Why does he have to be so damn sweet?
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Anything for you, princess,” he says.
For one damn minute, I wish he wasn’t such a good guy and would pull me to his chest and kiss me. Instead, with his hand out for me to use as balance, he looks away. I release his hand as I take a seat under the spray, and he closes the door, giving me privacy.
Letting out a breath, I bask in the warm water as it rolls over my body. When I feel like the water has done a good enough job, rinsing away the lingering stench of hospital and the sharp smell of fear after yesterday’s accident, I reach for the body wash and loofah strategically placed at my side.
I lift the bottle of what appears to be homemade body wash and sniff it. It smells heavenly, like lemon bars on a summer day. Taking my time, I wash my body, recalling the way Eli’s large hands grazed my ribs, so close to my aching breasts. I picture him gripping my torso as he bends forward and takes my nipple into his mouth.
Don’t go there.
I push my naughty thoughts away and reach for the shampoo. Squeezing a generous amount in my palm, I lather the shampoo. I lean back a little too far, and my butt slips off the chair.
“Ow, shit,” I yelp, catching myself on the cool tile wall as a sharp pain in my coccyx shoots up my spine.
The foggy glass door whips open in an instant, all the steam rushing out, revealing a worried Eli. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I slipped a little, but I’m fine. You can close the door,” I say in a placating tone as I slowly reach for the shampoo. Gooseflesh spreads across my arms at the chill from the open shower door.
I look up to find Eli staring at me like he’s the hunter and I’m his prey, helpless and caught in his trap. A full body shiver rolls through me as I watch the color in his hooded, desire-filled gaze grow darker.
Okay, I’m not great at reading people, but Eli has never looked at me like this before.
It’s about freaking time. My inner harlot hoots and hollers, doing a little jig. I want nothing more than to savor this moment, but I can’t stay here all night, and the last thing I want is for Eli to push me away. I need to tread carefully with him.
“You can close the door now.” Licking the drops of water off my lips, I wait for him to shut the door.
“Why did you cry out?” The muscles in his jaw tick as he maintains eye contact, refusing to leave.
“It was nothing, I swear. I just leaned too far back.”
“Let me help you.”
“You want to help me wash my hair?”
“Yes.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt. He’s my white knight, ready to jump in when I need him. “The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself. I didn’t save your sexy ass only to let you slip and fall in the shower.”
Sexy? He called me sexy.
Like a record scratch, my brain glitches as I watch Eli grab the collar of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask dumbly. It’s obvious, but my body won’t be able to handle seeing him shirtless right now. He needs to keep it on.
Eli freezes, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “Taking off my shirt. I don’t want it to get wet.” He rips the offending material over his head and…
Oh, goddess in heaven, thank you.
I always knew the man towering above me was handsome and had a body hidden under all his fancy suits, but wow. My imagination didn’t do him justice. Eli’s a walking statue of David, only hotter. Sexier.
My throat feels tight as I slowly rake my eyes over his body, appreciating his golden tan skin and firm broad chest, with a perfectly trimmed patch of hair in the center. His waist is trim and… Oh, holy eight-pack are his abs glorious.
Eli’s defined abdominal muscles ripple as he throws his shirt behind him to the floor. I’d do just about anything to trace every hill and valley with my fingers, my lips, and my tongue. And the defined triangle of muscle that leads straight to his…
My gaze catches the reflection of his back in the mirror. Inked in the middle of Eli’s back is a compass. The tattoo is bold and gorgeous. And really fucking hot.
Thank goodness water drips down my face, hiding the drool dripping down my chin as I ogle him.
Geez, is there anything about this man that’s not sexy?
Breaking the spell his body has on me, Eli holds out his hand, blocking my view. “Hand me the shampoo.”
My traitorous body heeds his command, and I place the bottle in his waiting palm. Chancing a glance up, I find him staring down at me with hooded eyes. The color in his irises is dark and wild, like an ocean storm’s waves that threaten to pull me under their tide.
The hot spray does nothing to stop my skin from pebbling as images of me surrendering to his passionate storm fill my head. Would Eli be as rough and intense as I’ve envisioned him to be?
“Gently lean your head back for me,” he orders, ending the scandalous musings of him as my lover in my head.
He grabs the shower head, saturating my hair before squeezing a dollop of the gel onto his palm and lathering it between his big hands. His forearms flex and ripple with the movement, and I squirm in my seat. It’s like watching forearm porn, and boy does Eli got some serious arm porn going on. I could watch them work all day. I could watch him all day.
Chin up, I lean back as he takes his time working the soap through my hair before rinsing it out. He repeats the process with the conditioner, and a low moan vibrates in the back of my throat as his fingers massage my scalp. His hands are like magic, and I wish he’d never stop, but he does.
I open my eyes to find Eli with his eyes closed. He visibly swallows, and I wonder what he would taste like if I dragged my lips over his thick neck right now. After a few agonizing seconds, his eyes find mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He clears his throat and nods as he finishes rinsing the conditioner from my hair. He turns off the water and grabs a fluffy towel from the rack. Still maintaining a respectable boundary between us, he places the towel around my shoulders, and covers me from his view. He reaches for a second towel and without instruction, he uses it to dry the ends of my hair.
The tension between us is obvious, and the sense of anticipation is high in the air as he squats down beside me. I’m edgy and needy. I can’t stop from silently begging him to remove the towel and touch me.
“Eli.” His name on my lips is a breathless whimper that says everything and nothing all at once. Touch me.
“Yes, princess?”
“Why haven’t you looked at me?” I blurt. Consequences be damned, I need to know. One second, he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me, and the next, there’s a wall between us.
He fights a smile as he grips the tops of my shoulders. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
Biting my lip, I nod in understanding. While his explanation should be enough, I can’t help but push him. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
He clenches his jaw and I melt. It’s so hot when he fights the words he wants to use. The moves he wants to make. “You’re hurt, Callie. You need to rest.”
Well, no shit . I want to scream, but I don’t.
A flicker of something I can’t read flickers in his eyes as I stare at him, searching his face for something more than his non-answer to my question.
Does he want me or not ? I need to know soon, or I’m going to combust. He has to give me something. I can’t keep living in this in-between phase where it feels like he wants to kiss me one minute and run away the next.
“I’m not tired,” I admit. My body is alive with raw energy and desire pumping through my veins. “Please?” The plea falls from my lips, imploring him to do more than look at me. I want him to look past the shell, down to my heart. My soul.
Eli is the one I want to truly see me for who I am.
When his eyes widen and his nostrils flare in understanding, I know I don’t have to tell him to look deeper.
He knows.